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12/29/2017
Better than you
Is me.
Lonelier than you.
Emptier, wilder, meaner than you.
Being a pistol- being empty stones
Rattling through space’s vitriol and uncontrolled
Outside of the principles and expectations of everything down below,
Underneath that isn’t.
Burn off
Brighten
Break up
All gone at an End Base
Camp
Inaccessible to the rest of you,
or you alls,
Worthier in sweet derision than I ever was in geniality.
I possess only surface level complexities
Yours are more than skin deep
Only further.
I don’t know how far you- The History,
The Chromosomal-
goes,---
or how deep.
But you wonder at my inaccessible,---
when it isn’t inaccessible at all.
I wonder at these things too. And I wonder at my wondering
Still thoughts in stagnant water
are all i ever get
from that.
There isn’t anything there.
there are no thoughts
or feelings- at least, not ones easily identified
not ones I think you’d recognize
not ones that you’d find easy to touch. So feel----
every action of mine is a massive charade,
And you are swindled, you are conned, with every word
or elicited feeling
and so, exactly, am I
But if I weren’t really living
If I weren’t really human
I couldn’t be tricked (like you).
Sometimes i think it is parasitic--
this is my body- you command it at will-
And this is my being, which is convinced of its own humanity.
Other times i think that it is me
Wholly and eternally
in unquenching fire
At the very least i know
That i speak in words, and not coherence
Or any other forms of that sort of thing.
Every circular rotation
bring s me something new-- often times, it will fit,
while others will sound absurd--
threatening , perhaps, in its absurdity--
In its algorithmic ability to convincingly play human
For a little while.
All dust on scalpels.
Because i have a score to settle.
Aseptic.
clean.
(the first verse is reference to the poem Better- Leonard Cohen, The Book of Longing)